


Neophyte

by xxx_Ari_xxx



Category: Original Work, Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Based heavily on Star Wars, Brotherhood, Dark Romance, Dont analyzethis plz, Dont look too closely, F/M, Gaklactic federation, Gonna sneak the Star Wars tag in, It's not a Star Wars fic, Multi, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Romance, Star Wars References, Star Wars inspired, Swearsies, Templars, The Black Brotherhood, The Divine Templars, Thinly vieled at that, Very likely smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:13:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25463008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxx_Ari_xxx/pseuds/xxx_Ari_xxx
Summary: The story of a "Sith" Master and a Neophyte, and how they changed an entire galaxy.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character





	1. Part I

_There had been many times before where he could have touched her. He could have brushed his fingers against hers, touched her shoulder or her arm, hugged her, even. Any small amount of contact would have confirmed or denied that the heavy electricity he felt was real. Any touch at all, just to find out if the heavy air would stay or disperse. He could never bring himself to do it, to see if what he felt was reality or fiction. Even though in his mind, his vibrant red hands had traced every inch of her ivory skin, Sarun’s fear of confirmation made him keep his distance from Elliemed. The danger was too great, in his mind._

_While there had never been any rules, per say, against a Master and a Neophyte being together, the other Master’s tended to use it against each other. He himself had once helped his own mentor to kill the man who used to occupy his very same seat on the council. This was considered one of the only acceptable ways of advancement through the ranks of the Brotherhood. Taking the seat of a member who died in battle, and not in a duel, was considered less honorable. Sarun himself has defeated several groups of acolytes who had tried to take his seat. It hadn’t happened in a long time- decades, really. The faces around him had changed many times during that period, and he had seen lovers and children and parents used against his brethren._

_Elliemed would not suffer as a cause of him._

_Despite his attempts to avoid the young Neophyte, he always seemed to find himself in her company. She was one of the newest batch of those sworn into the Black Brotherhood, an elite group of psionic warriors considered a criminal group by the Galactic Federation. They ran the drug trade, owned several moons on which the drugs were heavily mined, farmed, and produced, and were considered, by all accounts, murderers, marauders, pirates, and general outlaws. The council frequently came together to change the course of the current political flow in the Galactic federation through bribes, murder, and coupes. Anything that they could turn in their favor meant more power for the Brotherhood._

_And_ power _is everything to the Brothers._

_Sarun had never granted the brotherhood any power over him. In his forty years, he had never had his parents found- though they lived on, hidden away on the safety of his moon in the Rektar sector- nor had he ever taken a lover for whom he cared. The only route he had left available to them was combat. And Sarun was very, very good at combat. He had been undefeated since he obtained the rank of Master, second only to the Grandmaster himself in ability to stay alive. His naturally cruel and calculating nature lent itself to his position, and he was known for taking whole plants in less than a week's time._

_His previous Neophyte had taken the steps to rise to Sentinel some years back, A task rarely accomplished among the lower ranks. He had been assigned to the Temple itself, a position given as a great honor. If he lasted, Sarun had no doubt that the man would return to the council, and most likely challenge himself or another for a seat. It was unusual for a Master to go as long as Sarun had without a new Neophyte. Most constantly took on new apprentices, sometimes multiple at once._

_Elliemed had requested him on her second week, after their first encounter, and Sarun had done everything possible to this point to avoid answering._

Two months ago, he had met the new Neophytes at the Temple’s dock, sword in hand and fully dressed in his robes and armor. He has arrived on his personal ship only minutes before, and agreed to give them their first orders. His robes and armor were still splattered with blood from his assault on the planet Neciemaro and the Galactic Federation’s army. The tension between the federation’s army, The Divine Templars, was reaching a boiling point, and Sarun had ordered a higher number of Neophytes than usual to be brought in from the schools. 

He didn’t notice her at first. She was simply one small human in a group of over a hundred, some of whom were bright and colorful or taller than any other he had seen. He didn’t see her; but he did _feel_ her. He touched all of their minds briefly, checking for any possible spies, but finding none. It was during this brief touch that he felt a mind touch back, inquisitive, before fading away. It caused him to pause, but he proceeded on as though nothing had happened. 

After half an hour of the usual induction speech, the Neophytes filed past him in two lines, following the Sentinel who had come to retrieve them. It was then that he saw her for the first time. Human adjacent, but not an Earthling, he decided. With skin far too pale, and eyes far too dark, she was by fair the smallest of the newcomers. Her hair was wrapped up in a loose knot on her head, but for a long strand the trailed down the front of her shoulder, the color of the marsh grasses in the summer, as long as them too, if he had to guess. Bird like black eyes that caught onto his own, forcing his gaze to follow her as her lips turned up in a small smile. She disappeared in the middle of the line, too small to be seen past the others.

Something gripped at his chest, and he frowned at the ground as the rest of the Neophytes disappeared into the Temple. She wasn’t the usual type that came to them. In the brief touch he had felt from her, he sensed no violent rage, no psychotic desire to kill, not even the smallest fleck of hate. Just curiosity and something akin to interest. The ones who buried their rage and hatred under a layer of normalcy tended to be the ones that erupted in a fiery explosion down the line. 

He went back to his room, immediately and meditated on the interaction. He came to the realization that the gripping in his chest was an ache he had never experienced, but once found was easily recognized. He wanted to touch her mind again, or her ivory skin with his fingertips. The desire seemed foreign to him, alien and cold and unwanted. He drew in a breath, and he pushed the feeling away as he breathed it out. As he finished purging it, a knock came at the door of his apartment. 

Master Veasia was what some would refer to as a constant pain in Sarun’s side. Ever since she had joined the council, she had been trying her hardest to seduce him. To what ends, Sarun couldn’t say. They had fought once before, and she had lost, but never did she let down the walls protecting her mind from him, leaving him, to this day, questioning her intentions. It was just his luck that she was the one calling on him. He choked down his rage and gave her a grin that was more snarl than smile. 

“And to what do I owe this pleasure, Veasia?” Deep, smooth, and powerful, the sound of Sarun’s voice made Veasia smile in a slow, lingering smile. 

“Oh, Sarun, I was hoping that you might help me out with a small problem I have. You see, I was assigned to preside over the Neophytes’ training today. Unfortunately, I have a previous engagement and-”

“I’ll handle it. Leave.” He cut her off, scrolling a bit at how her words felt as though she was physically touching him. By the great sea, he wished he knew how she managed that. He’d make every word he said to her feel like a punch to the gut if he did.

She looked surprised, and rightly so. Sarun had never before agreed to any request she had brought before him. They both knew it was just her way of making an excuse to speak to him. They also both knew she had no previous engagement. She never did. “Oh, well, isn’t that ever so helpful of-”

He shut the door in her face, turning back to change into a clean set of robes. The dried blood on his clothes crumbled and flaked as he took it gingerly off and switched into a shorter black robe and leggings. Some of the Brothers, like Veasia and the Grandmaster himself, wore elaborately decorative robes, and others, like himself, dressed in an almost monk like manner. He didn't understand the purpose of such fine clothing when they would inevitably be splattered in blood and torn by the energy blades the Templars’ carried. Then again, he had always been unusually practical. 

By the time he left his apartment, Veasia was gone. He headed straight down to the training hall, where the Neophytes held their classes with the Masters on rotation. He had no idea why he had agreed. Was it because of the girl from before? No, he had purged that from himself- and yet, as he walked, he felt the gripping in his chest return. He turned the corner into the wide, open hall and was smacked by the sight of her in the front row, twirling her sword in an exercise overseen by Master Yamontvaam. He turned his head, the long tendrils that substituted his hair swaying. 

The man’s voice was rough and raspy through his breathing apparatus as he greeted Sarun, “Ah, welcome. I had anticipated Veasia, but it is just like her to push the responsibilities on to others. I must admit, you’re the last person who I thought would agree to take her duties, Sarun.”

“Restless, Yamon, restless from a week-long siege. Couldn’t quite relax enough.” They greeted each other by clasping the other’s forearm and gripping tightly; Yamontvaam and Sarun were some of the few Masters on explicitly good terms with one another. They had come up through the ranks together, and both had challenged their former mentors as Sentinels. So many years together had left them amicable, if not friendly. Sarun turned to face the Neophytes, trying to hide how heavily he focused on the blonde girl in the front row.

“I can imagine! When I heard they asked you to lead the assault on Neciemaro, I have to admit, I was surprised. You had only just returned from deployment on Uraashank.” 

“What can I say. I love the battlefront. Beats sitting in on meetings every day like Veasia.” He waved a gloved hand in the air, placing his attention back on his brethren. 

“Beats sitting in on meetings _with_ Veasia, too.” The both chuckled before Sarun fixed his gaze back upon the girl. Their eyes met, and she quickly looked away, her cheeks flushing slightly darker than they had already been. His brain skipped a fuse and restarted. Had he caught her staring at him while she practiced?

“So tell me about this group. Any stand out to you so far?” His voice rolled back down into a serious tone, and he gestured in a wave toward the hundred or so trainees. Yamontvaam nodded thoroughly, hand rubbing his chin as he started to point them out. 

“There’s Khaca and Nyrish, the twins in the eighth row, Preyu in row twelve, Dachir and Wrace in row four, and Elliemed up in front there.” The two feline-like Krathmenes and the three Rillitics were unsurprising, but once again, his brain tripped over a circuit and had to restart when his friend gestured to the small blonde- no. When he gestured to _Elliemed_. The thought made his chest suddenly hurt, a sharp pain, an increase in the ache he thought he had rid himself of. 

“Huh. Not the one I would have guessed.” He rubbed his chin, trying to make up for the delay in his reply. It could only have been a second or two, but he felt as though it had been minutes of silence.

“I know. She doesn’t look like it, but she’s probably the best of the group. Hasn’t messed up a single exercise, stronger than she looks, and well spoken too. She’ll be a great Sentinel. Eventually.” He shook his head once, pushing his tendrils back over his shoulder before nodding to Sarun and clasping his shoulder. “Since you’re here, i’ll be taking my leave. Let me know if you have trouble. You’re not that great with the neophytes, if i do recall.”

Bright yellow eyes found Yamontvaam’s face, “That was one time, and it was well earned. Kept everyone else in line, didn’t it? Lessons can be taught many ways. I find physically is the best remembered.” Halfway through, his eyes drifted back to Elliemed, who once again quickly looked away, as though caught staring. _Stab._ His face twitched slightly in confusion and he rubbed his chest.

“Well, try not to give out too many lessons today. These are fresh off the boat.” The Symbion turned away and left the hall before Saurn could reply, leaving him with the group of Neophytes. They stood at attention, their swords in front of them, blade down in their hands. His brow twitched and he crossed his gloved arms, tipping his head back slightly as he narrowed his eyes down the lines. He had to force his gaze off of Elliemed as he passed her in line, swallowing around the knot that was beginning to grow in his throat. A burning had begun in his palms, causing them to tremble. 

_Damn it, why? Why now?_

He dug his nails into his palms as he shouted out to the Neophytes, “Split into pairs of two. You’ve demonstrated your ability to use your weapon, but I want to see you _use_ your weapon. Begin.”

There were an even number of newcomers, for once, so Sarun stood back, arms folded, face turned down in a scroll as he watched the students face off. As he paced the outside of the group, he heard a loud thump and a soft snap, barely even a minute into the exercise. He walked around to the noise, and something twisted as he stared down at Elliemed and a rather large member of his own race, the Dathrathi, one of whom was flat on their ass on the ground with a broken sword handle lingering in their hand.

And it wasn't Elliemed.

He scoffed at the man on the ground, easily twice the height, weight, and general size of the girl who stood, sword held in front of her as she stared down at the Dathrathi with a smile. “Do you need a hand?”

His breath caught and then kicked completely from his chest. It took another moment before he could breathe back in. She had honey tea for a voice; warm, soothing, sweet, and he wanted to drink it in, wanted to hear it whisper his name in the middle of the night-

_I don’t want this._

He turned sharply on his heels, the sudden movement catching the neophytes off guard as he did. His heart was racing, and for the first time in his life, Sarun felt unsteady, unbalanced, _unhinged._ A sick, twisting knot had filled his whole chest, and he stomped on it, crushed it under his heel as he stood at the head of the group, facing away from them. 

“Unbelievable. Absolutely disgraceful. Are you honestly telling me that the strongest among you, that the fastest and smartest, is this tiny girl?” He turned and pointed at elliemed, their eyes meeting. Her eyes were wide, and he couldn’t distinguish her pupils from the iris. Their black shine refracted the light in a way that gave her the appearance of being startled and flustered, the same feelings that he was choking down with a vengeance. 

“You are all a disgrace. This is the Black Brotherhood, and you represent us all. Neophytes, Sentinels, Masters, and the Grandmaster himself. You _will_ be better than this. Dismissed.”

He stood still, facing the exit as the students filed out in all directions. He brought his breathing back under control as they passed, and just as he was about to leave himself, he heard her speak.

“Have I done something wrong, Master Sarun?” Sweet, honey dipped concern filled the air, brushing against his mind. Of all the Neophytes who could have been naturally gifted, who could have had such strong psionic abilities, it _had_ to be elliemed. As though the whole situation wasn’t intense and stressful enough, she brushed her mind against his, converting confusion and flustered wondering. 

“Elliemed. No, you haven’t done anything wrong, other than asking if you’ve done something wrong. What you did was impressive. I haven’t seen a take down like that in some time. You’re quite skilled for a Neophyte.” If she heard the tremor in his voice, she didn’t acknowledge it. If she noticed how his hands shook at his sides, she didn’t say. She approached from behind him and stepped in front of him, tilting her head far back to look up at him. Being so close, he realized he had to be almost a foot and a half, maybe two feet taller than her. Her hair was still perfectly wrapped in a bun, and she had no outward tell of having just trained for an hour. 

“Then why do you seem so unsettled, if I may ask?” Too close, far too close. He took a step backward, causally, tilting his weight and crossing his arms. 

“Nothing that you have done. You should be proud. You’re advanced. You won’t stay a Neophyte for long. Have you thought about which Master you’d like to apprentice to yet?” Another subtle step back, but she countered it with a small step forward. He felt almost like prey being circled by a large cat. 

“I have, but it’s too soon to tell.” Sweet, liquid honey and tea. Lavender scented, by the sea, too close. He turned away and started to walk to the other exit, unable to walk past her.

“You should report to the Council as soon as you have made your choice. Now I apologize, but I have other duties to attend to, and you should prepare for your next combat lesson this afternoon. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye, Master Sarun.” He didn’t turn back, despite knowing that she was watching him leave. He bee lined directly back to his apartment and threw the door shut. He went directly to his altar and sat, meditating, for the rest of the night, praying that he would never have to see her again.

If only he had known how deeply threaded together their lives would become.


	2. Part II

_ They had told her that he was older, powerful, and the best choice for her future Master. She had been so eager to meet Master Sarun upon her arrival, one of the most formidable Black Bothers of all. A man so powerful, there was talk of when he would take the position of Grandmaster, as everyone assumed he would.  _

_ Upon arriving at the docks with the other hundred or more Neophytes, she felt a light brush against her mind. The touch was formal, only surface level, and she assumed the proper response was to touch back. After all, that was what she had been taught to do in greeting by Master Arthalinea at the center of Illyrica. She reached out an inquisitive greeting to the touch, catching it just as it was dissipating. It lingered for a moment, morphing into faint interest. Then she heard a voice shouting from the front, but even when she jumped, she could only see the top of the man’s head. His voice, however, she could hear loud and clear. Was it ever a voice. Mellow and low, powerful and a hint of severity. It sounded like the voice she was hoping for. She waited for them to be dismissed, so she could get a chance to see its owner.  _

_ She was not disappointed, but she was certain this man couldn’t be the Master Sarun she had been told so much about. For one, he didn’t look nearly old enough to be the man she was told to apprentice to. He couldn’t be more than his early thirties, much less going on half a century. His hair was cut in a slightly longer fashion, leaving it to curl messily around bone colored horns that protruded in a ring around his head.  _

_ She was still not disappointed, because he was easily the most attractive creature she had ever laid eyes on. She passed right in front of him, just a meter or so away, and by the Sea, he was a giant. Six and a half feet, at least, with wide shoulders and a solid but lithe frame. He was covered from his neck down, every inch covered in leather and robes and what looked like cortisor armor. There were blood splatters covering every single piece, and his sword’s handle was tucked into the tactical belt barely visible on his waist. He clearly had just returned from the battlefront. _

_ The most distinctive thing, however, even more so than his ring of short and crooked horns, was his deep red skin and the sharp black tattoos that decorated it. They curved with sharp cheekbones and a sharp jawline, they blacked out the hollows of his eyes and faded into the line of his brow. His upper lip and nose had pointed markings, further defining the already strong features. A single silver piercing sat in the middle of his lower lip, and she caught a flash of the same glint at his ears.  _

_ Sharp yellow eyes caught hers. She saw his brow twitch slightly downward as they looked eyes, but something in her moved and fluttered. She could feel her lips turn up into a smile before she could help it, and she looked over her shoulder as she continued past him and on toward the practice hall. His eyes followed, staying hyper focused on her own. She felt what could only be described as a current of static between them, but she turned away and it snapped out of existence.  _

_ The fluttering in her stomach remained.  _

Ellie felt as though she had miscalculated astronomically. The previous day had left her confused and stressed on the notion of requesting Master Sarun as her mentor. She was uncertain if their interaction after training had been positive or negative. He had seemed irritable, almost unhappy with her presence, but he had also reassured her that she had done nothing wrong. Was she to believe another’s words over her own eyes?

The feelings intensified as she approached his door in the living quarters of the Temple. She had arrived early for the morning lessons, only to have Master Yamontvaam pull her aside. “Elliemed. Master Sarun was supposed to be here quite some time ago, and it isn’t like him to not show. Would you do me a favor and go retrieve him? I’m afraid I can’t leave until he arrives.”

“Yes, Master Yamontvaam. I would be happy to assist you.” She bowed to him and listened to his instructions on how to get to Sarun’s apartment on the other side of the Temple.

Which was how she managed to be in the hallway at the exact moment that Sarun slammed the door in the face of an elegantly adorned woman. Her blue skin stood out against the stark black and red of her robes, and she turned to see Ellie watching silently. She sneered and made her way down the hall. As they passed each other, the woman knocked into her, shoving her into the wall. She barely caught herself, and in the process scraped skin clean off parts of her palms. She glared over her shoulder at the Liss woman.

“Mind your own business, bitch.”

A sudden coil of white hot rage sprang up inside her, turning the edges of her vision into bright spots. The desire to lash out and absolutely  _ obliterate _ the woman dug it’s sharp talons into her mind. The woman disappeared beyond the corner, and Ellie breathed out in a long hiss, letting the rage cool back off into a solid core of steel. As all consuming as it was, the rage paralyzed her where she stood when it took hold. 

She pushed herself off the wall and walked, a little less calmly, to Sarun’s door. She gave it three sharp raps and then took a step back, tucking her bleeding palms behind her back. There was a moment of silence, and then the door swung open with a crack as it hit the inner wall. “By the Sea, Veasia, can’t you-”

Ellie watched as Sarun’s expression morphed from twisted disgust into a brief period of surprise before settling on annoyance, his brow furrowing and distorting the tattoos that rested on them. There was an awkward moment of silence as they took one another in. She noticed that his clothes were slightly askew, his robes roughly tied as though he had been awakened and barely pulled them on. She felt a stab in her chest as she considered the alternative; that the Liss woman he had called Veasia had been inside his apartment with him, and this disheveled appearance was due to that. As she remained silent, unsure of what to say, his face grew increasingly annoyed.

It wasn’t any of her business.

“... What do you want?” She swallowed around the knot in her throat and smiled. 

“Master Yamontvaam has sent me to request your presence in the Training Hall. He gave me explicit instructions to only return with you, or not to return at all.” She bowed slightly before looking back up at him. He had the expression of someone who was both in disbelief and slightly startled. 

“What’s the time, Elliemed?”

“It’s- It’s half past 7 o’clock, Master.”

He cursed sharply and slammed the door shut. She could hear him rummaging around through something, albeit faintly. Then, silence. After a few minutes of awkwardly standing in the hallway and waiting, Sarun opened the door back up and calmly closed it after himself. He was significantly more put together now, his clothes smoothed and neatly tied, his hair laying mostly flat as opposed to sticking straight up. His face was completely composed and blank, but for a hint of something that Ellie couldn’t quite place. He started off down the hall without acknowledging her. Trying to swallow the knot of feeling in her throat, she followed him, taking quick steps to keep up with his long stride. 

They walked in silence for all of about two minutes before Sarun sighed and stopped. Ellie paused a few feet ahead of him and turned back to look at him, her hands still tucked beyond her back. “Master?” 

“I…am bothered by a feeling. I have been… unusually erratic around this last day or so. I’m under the impression you believe it to be your fault, so I’d like to address it. It isn’t.” He was staring down at her feet, his brown drawn tightly down over his eyes. There was something about his tone that was incredibly awkward as he tried to piece together the proper words. Ellie had the distinct feeling he was both uncomfortable and uncertain in what he was doing. It almost, almost, sounded like an apology. 

"I'm not sure I understand, Master."

“I feel, maybe, as though I was rather…” He paused and looked up her face, and his face twitched slightly, “Yesterday. My behavior was not your fault. I feel as though I left before I had convinced you of that. Nor is my reaction today due to you.”

“Oh.” Ellie leaned, shifting her weight as she tried to think of a response. This was definitely an apology, even if the words "I'm sorry" had yet to leave his tattooed lips. She decided to follow suit, and not refer to it as an apology. “Thank you? I’m not sure how to answer that, Master. ”

“That’s all I’ll say on the matter.” He started walking again, slower this time. Just slow enough that Ellie could walk at a normal pace. They were just turning around the corner to leave the Living Quarters when he asked her, “I meant what I told you yesterday. I’ve not seen someone with that kind of skill at such a young age in a very long time. I also noticed that you seem to have a powerful psionic affinity. That will come in hand greatly during your training. You have raw talent, but not the refinement to adequately use them. There’s no finesse in what you’re doing.”

_ That could almost be considered praise _ , she thought. She thought back to her standoff with the Dathrathi the day before. He had taunted her about her height just before they had begun, and then complained loudly about having to fight her. Normally, she would have tried to let it slide, but her anger had spiked higher than normal. It had taken a lot out of her to stop when he landed flat on his back, his head smacking into the tiles of the hall. It had been so easy to sweep his legs out from under him with the back side of her sword. He’d been lucky that she hadn’t “accidentally” activated it. 

“Thank you, Master… may I ask you a question?” The words leapt from her lips before she could process them fully.

A soft pause. “You may, depending on what it is.”

Hesitation. “I don’t want to overstep or seem impertinent.”

“What do you want?” His voice was sharp, biting. He stopped and turned toward her, his head tilted forward. He held himself stiff and straight, giving her the impression of a living statue. 

“The woman who was there just before me? Is she your lover?” She looked straight down at the base of his short robes, her jaw clenched.  _ Land and sea, you absolute imbecile. Why on earth did I ask him that? _

The sound was soft at first, inaudible even. It grew in strength and volume until it was ringing in her ears and down the hall. Sarun was  _ laughing _ at her. “Oh, by the sea, of course not. Vesia is viper. I would never lower myself to that. I’m not sure why that’s a relevant question? I wasn’t aware you two crossed paths.”

Her cheeks flushed dark and fast and she cleared her throat, turning away slightly. “I, well. She kind of. How do I put this?” She thought for a moment and then finally unclasped her hands. She felt the barely scabbing skin rip apart, as though it had started to fuse together. “We collided in the hallway, and she seemed less than thrilled with my presence.” 

The sudden surprised blinking that dashed over Sarun’s face cleared into a frustrated, almost angry look. “What did she do to you? You’d only ask if she had done something.”

“No, no, it was nothing. She just seemed incredibly put off.” She hid her hands in her sleeves, shrugging the incident off. She started walking again, and after a few moments, Sarun caught up to her. 

There was silence as they walked, but she was very aware of the fact that Sarun kept looking sideways at her. Once again, she felt as though she had made an egregious mistake. Just as she was getting ready to apologize for asking, he turned to her and stopped right in her path. With his hands behind his back and his face set in a slightly puzzled expression, he inquired softly, “Why would it matter if she were my lover?”

“I… It wouldn’t, Master. She just seemed almost.. Territorial. I apologize for asking.” She stumbled through her reply, her head hung a bit to keep him from looking in her eye and reading her lies. She plastered a soft smile onto her face again and made her way down the last hall. Sarun waited a moment and then followed after her, his face still set in a curious and confused look. 

The rest of her day was tinted by the conversation they’d had. An endless internal tirade of kicking herself for being so stupid began sometime after and remained for all of her training. It didn’t help her that he was leading the day’s work, being the more skilled swordsman among the Brothers. It certainly didn’t help that he seemed to come back around to watch her more frequently than the other’s. He never said anything. All he did was watch her and then nod and move on. The buildup of frustration and fluttering her stomach and chest reached its breaking point when they were separated out into pairs to practice techniques again. 

It was really all Rioridian’s fault. The stupid Dathrathi had decided that he needed to gain back some little bit of dignity by taking her on again. The two stood, Ellie holding her sword solidly in both hands, pointed down from an angle at her shoulders, Rioridian opting to hold his one handed and slightly behind his body’s angled stance. He’d sneered down at her, his other arm forward and armored to deflect any attacks she might drop on him. There were a few moments as they both stared at each other directly in the eye, loosely moving back and forth as they waited for the other to spring.

There was something in the man’s eyes, some kind of malice that Ellie could feel was directly addressed to her, that made her solidify her stance. When he struck, he’d do so hard and fast. Rioridian wasn’t the kind of fighter to dance around his prey, or the kind to fight defensively until an opportune moment to strike arose. He was a bulldozer, a wrecking ball that would throw it’s full weight behind every movement. 

That was why she’d outlast him.

As expected, he swung on her with all his strength, giving himself awake by pulling back slightly to gain more momentum on his swing. She dodged it, rolling straight forward and returning to her feet mere inches from him. She smashed the butt of her sword into his gut. She was too short for him to get an accurate swing on her, something that he should have realized, and adjusted his arch for. Instead, he’d swung for her head. The Dathrathi leaned over, winded from the strike. She followed it up by adjusting her grip on the sword, grabbing it’s blade in her armored hand and bringing the handle down on the back of his now exposed and reachable neck. 

Everything about this was too easy. 

“You fucking cunt.” He pushed himself back to his feet, his breathing harsh as he recovered from her well placed hits. She readjusted, gripping the handle in both hands again. She smirked in response and gestured him on. He charged her, his blade low as though he meant to run her through. She considered this a much better approach, but she side stepped his attack and swept his legs out from under him with her leg. He fell on his face, and as he rolled over to get up, He found her blade pointed at his face. “You won’t do it. I’ve seen you around, seen you smiling and laughing. You have a fucking bleeding heart-”

_ Shlick. _

His voice cut off into a scream as she violently stabbed the blade down though his bicep. Her eyes reflected light in sharp splinters, her face contorted into rage. She stepped on his chest and ripped her blade free, her finger pressing the button on the side. Her blade ignited with a purple black light, a constant beam that coated it from hilt to tip. She held it over his throat and tried to reign in her sudden desire to free his body of it’s head. This was supposed to be a practice run, and they hadn’t been instructed to eliminate their fellow Neophytes. 

_ A bleeding heart. _ If there was one thing Elliemed did not possess, it was a bleeding heart. The mere idea of it sent her into a frenzied rage that she was struggling to quiet. If the stupid fucker didn’t stop screaming, if the other’s didnt stop staring, if she couldn’t get her breathing under control- hands pulled her away and took her blade from her hands. She struggled, trying to push them off, but then Master Sarun stepped into view. He leaned over the Neophyte on the ground. Then turned his attention to Elliemed where she stood, restrained. 

“Get her out of here. Away from him, at least. I don’t know what he said, but he should have been powerful enough to prevent this.” The man stood and crossed his arms, glaring down at the younger representation of his people in absolute disgust. “What a waste of air. You’re lucky she didn’t cut your fucking head off. You expect to get anywhere in the Brotherhood? Learn not to antagonize those who are stronger than you, you piece of filth.”

There was a moment between his words and his actions where he turned his eyes on Ellie. The bright yellow glanced over her with a flicker of annoyance. If it weren’t for the expression on his face, Ellie would have thought that the way he looked her over was him checking for injuries. It was more likely that he was annoyed by her sudden outburst. The rest of the Neophytes weren’t as psionically adapt as the two of them, so she risked sending out a soft brush of her mind, her emotions still running high on rage. 

He bristled and turned sharply away.

He waved a hand and a woman with tentacles for hair and skin like a rhino stepped in to look over the gushing wound. He turned his attention back to Ellie, who was being escorted out of the hall. The last thing she saw was him touching his chin, looking deep in thought as he examined the wreckage of the day’s training. He didn’t look up at her as she disappeared around the corner. 

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so yeah, it's so heavily Star Wars inspired that I felt the need to tag it as such. Sorry if you disagree with that. Critical comments welcomed, but just be nice about it, yeah?


End file.
